Considering my dislike (no, scrap that, it was
actual hatred) for Latin, I was not expecting to enjoy so much a tome of these
dimensions and with so many passages in a dead language with which I
fruitlessly struggled for three years.
Yes, there have been tons of mystery and
detective stories set in the Middle Ages lately, but this is something else.
Guglielmo and Adso, like Sherlock and Watson, aren’t just insightful, they are
a perfect tandem, complement each other, and also have a (monastic, but still
highly developed) sense of humour.
The book is a joy to read, although because of
its size it’s clearly not one that can be read in a day. And it’s downright
thrilling (and scary, at times). Also, we can finally forget the pursuit of the
Holy Grail (the only time this was fun was when Indiana Jones was chasing it)
or that of other boring relics – for once these monks are fighting for
something that actually matters.
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